


Let me Reach You and Never Let Go

by livinglittlelie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, I also wanted to give Yuuri some more background, I am determined to keep this fandom alive, M/M, Viktor being a subtle lil shit, Viktor being smitten, What-If, Younger Yuuri and Viktor, Yuuri being a graceful nymph, Yuuri being oblivious to his own charms, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinglittlelie/pseuds/livinglittlelie
Summary: Every human life is intertwined with multiple others. One single decision affects not only the destiny of the ones near you, but it can also reach long distances, causing even the most unimaginable results.This is the story of how one single decision changed the fate of the whole world, but most importantly, them.





	1. Reaching out for you

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again, and welcome to one of my new stories! 
> 
> For the ones wondering why I’m not updating Adagio on the Ice, it’s because my life’s been hectic these days, with other writing projects, Christmas travelling (it’s a drag when your family lives far away from you) and my finals.
> 
> This was my backup fic, the fic I’d prepared for when things turned out like this. I've already got 2 and a half chapters written, so I don't need to dedicate too much time in them as I would to other projects.
> 
> Either way, I hope you like it!

Yuuri dried off the sweat from his forehead with the towel Minako handed him. The woman was near tears, cheering and waving at every skater almost as if she was at the World Championship instead of the Japanese regionals. She had dropped everything to accompany him on his first time in a competition, but it wasn’t sure if she had done it for him or for her big love for figure skating.

Yuuri tried to calm his nerves as he waited for his score, worrying his lips between his teeth and almost drawing blood. Minako squeezed his shoulder in silent reassurance.

“You did it really well, Yuuri. Don’t worry about it.”

His soft panting didn’t completely come from exhaustion when he answered, “I flubbed my jump, though.”

“But your step sequence was award-worthy. You did it so well, honey.”

The announcer’s voice began blasting off from the speakers then, and Yuuri’s breath hitched. His name was mentioned, and he was about to say his score. Yuuri could feel his heart pumping hard against his chest, and he mildly wondered if you could get a bruise of heart over-excitement.

The crowd went wild as the score was announced, and he looked around, his mind still trying to grasp the meaning of what had been said. Minako threw herself to his shoulders, laughing like a madman, and he managed to catch both of them before they fell to the floor, but the older woman didn’t seem to pay any mind. She squished him, laughing loudly in his ear, and shook him out of his stupor.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, you’ve won!”

A smile finally broke in his face as he grinned bewildered to the spectators. The three winners were called to the ice, where they were handed their respective medals, and Yuuri skated back to where Minako was waiting for him. He put his shoes on, carefully placing his skates in his sports bag, and zipped up his jacket, covering his costume completely.

He finally put on his glasses, sighing in relief when the world fell back into focus. He needed to start thinking about buying contacts for when he competed.

Some reporters swarmed by then, asked him multiple questions at the same time, and he struggled to answer them all. One of them looked much more enthusiastic than the others, and he seemed to have genuinely enjoyed his performance, going as how he was asking about the technicalities of it instead of the pre-formed questions the others had.

He also asked whether there was a theme for both his short program and the free skate, and Yuuri enjoyed answering his questions – he stuttered through most of his answers, but it was the thought that counted. He checked his name – Morooka, his journalist tag said – and he tried to remember him for his next competition.

“Yuuri!” Minako called for him. He turned around, and he spotted her standing beside a weird man, which was wearing sunglasses despite being in a closed building. And wow, his hair was so _long!_

He bowed at the reporters, apologizing for having to cut the questions short, and trotted towards them. Once he reached them, Minako put a hand in his shoulder.

“Here he is, Katsuki Yuuri,” she said in English, then she switched to Japanese. “Yuuri, this is Celestino Cialdini, one of the most famous figure skating coaches of the world.”

“Nice to meet you, Yuuri,” Celestino said with a bright smile, and raised his hand to shake it with him.

Yuuri accepted the handshake, smiling nervously at the big man. “The pleasure’s mine, Mr. Cialdini. I- uh, I’ve read about you before in ice skating magazines.”

He grinned in response. “Don’t believe half of the things those vultures say. They have the bad habit to twist reality at their will.”

“Oh! Uh…”

Celestino laughed and patted his back “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“Yuuri,” Minako butted in, “Celestino was telling me how much he’d enjoyed both of your programs.”

“Yes, boy! Although your jumps need a bit of work, your step sequence was very rich and expressive. Minako was telling me you took ballet lessons with her, and practiced those steps in her study. Your hard work definitely showed, Yuuri.”

“T-thank you, sir.”

Celestino waved his hand. “Please, call me Celestino. I am not one fond of formalities. So Ms. Minako taught you the technicalities of the steps in figure skating. Who taught you to jump? Where’s your coach?”

“Uhm, I don’t have a couch.” He looked to the side, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Hasetsu is a very little town; the only ice skating instructor we have is Yuuko’s mother, and she only knows simple jumps. When we got bored of those, we taught ourselves harder jumps watching videos online and reading manuals.”

“You learnt to do a triple Salchow, a triple Axel and a double toe loop combination by yourself?” he asked, looking impressed.

Yuuri rubbed his nape self-consciously. “Yeah… Although my Salchow came out wobbly today, and I had to put my hand in the ice. But I can land it in practice most of the times.”

Celestino’s eyes glinted at that and Yuuri felt a shiver running through him from head to toe. He fidgeted slightly where he stood, waiting for him to say anything. The older man rubbed his chin, and looked at the boy from head to toe, regarding him with a new light.

“Say, Yuuri… how old are you?”

“Huh?” he muttered, taken off guard, “seventeen, eighteen the 29th of November. Why?”

Celestino’s mouth began curving up in a smile. “That’s what I thought. Well, first things first: Yuuri, do you want to skate competitively?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly, conviction oozing from every pore of his body. Minako gasped, as she had never seen the boy so sure of something in all the time he’d known him.

“Why?” he asked, and his sole focus fell on the boy, testing him.

Because Celestino wasn’t looking for people thriving for fame and success. He wanted deep passion, something uncommon nowadays, and something he could see in the boy in front of him. He had seen it in the way he moved in ice; putting aside his nerves, his gaze was steady and focused in his objective, and he’d moved him in a way most of professional skaters had never been able to.

But still, he wanted to hear it coming from his mouth, which was the force that drove him, despite not having the best upbringing or the facilities most skaters had in their life.

“I want to face someone in the ice,” he replied, and Celestino had no doubt that it was true.

“Who? If you don’t mind me asking.”

At that, he looked startled, and his cheeks acquired a soft pink colour. “Uhm, Viktor Nikiforov, sir. I have always liked his skating, and I’ve dreamt to skate in the same ice as him for years.”

Ah, Viktor Nikiforov, the Russian prodigy of 21 years, who had earned the second place in the last Grand Prix Final. Of course Yuuri would like to compete against him in the ice. It was a common dream nowadays, more so in the junior skaters. However, he didn’t let that answer dim his hope in the boy.

“And once you reach him, what will you do?”

“I’ll keep skating, of course. I want to show everyone my love for skating. I don’t care if it’s here or in bigger competitions, or even in Hasetsu. I just want to skate.”

There it was, that spark he’d been looking for so long. Celestino smiled to himself, relief overflowing him. He’d found him.

However…

“Yuuri, I would be honoured to help you reach your dreams by coaching you in Detroit.” Yuuri’s eyes began to widen at that, not really sure if he was hearing correctly. “However, I need you to be 18 so you can get the Sports grant, so we’ll need to wait until this season is over to take you with me. I’ll be coming for you in April, if you want, of course.”

“R-really?”

“Yes. Just let me fish for my business card…” He patted at his pockets, and took out a small card from one of them. “There it is. So you remember me once this season is over.”

“I-I won’t forget! I promise!” he replied enthusiastically, holding the card to his chest.

Celestino laughed at the boy’s antics. He was still too young, and his motivation was refreshing. He felt like he wasn’t giving the boy what he deserved. He had single-handedly won the Japanese regionals with self-taught figure skating, he wanted to give him more than promises for the future, something tangible. A thought crossed his mind, and he had to supress a grin. Oh, he was going to love it.

“What about that. In two months, I will be going with one of my skaters to different competitions around the world for the Grand Prix classification, and I believe that one of them will take place in China. Do you want to join me? It’ll give you a taste of what senior figure skating is like. Who knows? If we’re lucky enough, maybe Viktor Nikiforov is assigned to compete in there.”

Tears of gratitude pooled in Yuuri’s eyes as he bowed to the man in gratitude. He clenched his fists shut, trying to repress the urge to just jump at him and hug the man – and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

_“Thank you so much,”_ he muttered with heavy voice.

“You’re welcome! I’ll send you the information and the plane tickets later, okay? And congratulations for winning gold, Yuuri. You deserve it.” He patted him in the shoulder and smiled down at him. He couldn’t wait to see what the Japanese would become in the future.

Once Celestino Cialdini left, Minako couldn’t take it anymore and hugged the kid, bathing him in praises and congratulations. She felt how he trembled in her arms, but his fists were steady.

Minako couldn’t believe how he’d grown so fast. He was just a toddler walking in her study what felt like two days ago, but look at him, earning his rightful place in the professional figure skating world. She couldn’t be more proud of him.

She let go of him and quickly grabbed her phone, ready to call his parents and tell them about the great news. Yuuri stayed behind, eyeing the blue card in his hands. It had the imprint of a skate, and Celestino’s name on it, along with his contact information.

His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and his hands tingled for being clenched shut for so long, but the discomfort didn’t matter to him. Finally, he was one step closer from facing Viktor in ice.

He couldn’t wait until that became true.

* * *

The two months from the Regionals to the Shanghai Cup went by faster than he expected. He already had the plane tickets and the accreditation he needed to go in as a spectator. Celestino would accompany him most of the time, excluding the time he had to be with his skater.

Yuuri didn’t mind. He was too happy to mind.

The night he’d discovered that Viktor Nikiforov had been assigned to compete in Shanghai too, his loud squeal could be heard in all Yuutopia. His parents rushed to his room, asking what was wrong, only to find him bawling his eyes out and hugging his laptop against his chest. Once he calmed down, he shyly explained what had made him cry so much, and his parents shook their heads, bemused.

It didn’t bode that well with his sister, who threw him a pillow when she found out Yuuri was just fanboying with ice skating again. The pillow hit him square in his face, and his glasses fell to the mattress because of it.

Vicchan, not at all angry to be rudely woken up at 2 AM in the morning, licked his tear-stained cheeks and curled against him in bed, falling asleep almost instantly. His family left the room afterwards, Mari still fuming at his “ridiculous behaviour” – huh, as if she wouldn’t do the same if she got tickets to one of those boybands she loved – and Yuuri buried his face in Vicchan’s soft fur, breathing in.

He looked up to his ceiling then, the excitement of knowing that he would see Viktor in real life so soon stopping him from falling asleep. He knew he would regret his lack of sleep in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

He threw himself into practicing his jumps with renewed vigour, either on ice and off of it. Minako also helped him, correcting his posture as much as she could in her study, while Yuuko and her mother helped him in the ice rink. The extra effort paid off, and he was landing more than not his jumps, and he felt steadier in his blades.

His birthday came and went by in a blink, and he could only remember the extra tasty Katsudon his mother had made for him for dinner. After an exhausting practice, the taste was incredibly better.

Then, the day came. The night of the 10th of December, Yuuri couldn’t keep his eyes shut for long periods of time, let’s not talk about sleeping. Resigning himself to a sleepless night, he threw the covers off himself and jumped out of his bed.

First of all, he checked he had everything he would possibly need for the trip; his passport, ID, plane tickets… once he’d made sure that, indeed, he’d packed everything for the four days trip, he sat on his bed, not really sure what to do. He stared off at the distance, and his eyes landed on the posters of Viktor Nikiforov hanging on his walls. They’d been there for so long, since he’d put them up as a child. They were his constant reminder of where he wanted to be, the reason why he had to keep going despite the bruises, the blisters and broken nails.

He would get there someday. He would fight with nails and teeth to reach him, to amaze him just as much as he stunned him every time he skated. He wanted to make him feel in return his awe, his passion, how much he’d make him love the ice under his feet when he glided freely.

He brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, hiding his smile against them. He’d never felt closer to his objective until then, and he felt he could almost grasp it with his fingertips. He laid down on the bed again, covering his mouth with his hands to stop the bubbling giggles from coming out. He didn’t need another pillow thrown at his face from his sister, once was enough, thank you.

Dawn came quicker than expected, and soon, his mother knocked on his door to tell him he should start getting ready soon. He put on his clothes quickly and ran to the kitchen, his fists clenching the shoulder strap tightly. He swallowed down his breakfast, and in less than 15 minutes, Yuuri was outside of his home, not caring at the slightness that his train wouldn’t arrive for an hour.

His memory of the trip was hazy. Once he’d settled down in the train, he’d immediately fallen asleep, and he was so relieved he’d put on an alarm to wake him up when they were arriving at the airport. Once in Fukuoka Airport, he tried to make his way inside, and he had to ask twice for directions, but at last, he found his boarding gate in time.

On the plane he dozed off again, his excitement not helping him to stay awake. Yuuri didn’t mind, though. He preferred sleeping in there than being exhausted and not being able to enjoy the show later.

Celestino picked him up at the airport. In their ride to the hotel, he told him that his skater, John Bane, was already in there, and they had the whole day for themselves. He then proceeded to tell him how their morning practice had gone, and how he was going to enjoy his protegee’s performances.

Once they arrived at the hotel, Yuuri dropped his things in his bed, and Celestino offered to do some sightseeing. He agreed, eager to do anything that made the time go faster. He took the camera with himself, as his mother had asked for pictures of the trip – and that included pictures of the city, she insisted with a smile, not only pictures of men skating.

Shanghai was beautiful, he guessed. He snapped some pictures here and there, and he even posed with Celestino in some of them. One time he could’ve sworn he’d seen Christophe Giacometti from the corner of his eye, a skater that was competing in the senior GPF for the first time, but Celestino had dragged him into the next tourist spot before he could make sure of it.

When night drew near, Celestino dropped him at the hotel, saying he was meeting some coach friends before the competition, and Yuuri lied on his bed, the hours of wandering around the city and his fidgety behaviour for weeks having drained him. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it was a struggle to keep his eyes from closing.

He gave a fleeting thought to change into his pyjamas, but that thought went as fast as it came, his limbs too heavy to even think about getting changed. He fell asleep on the top of the covers, his dreams full of the music that only came with skates gliding on ice.

Yuuri didn’t need his alarm to wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, slightly surprised in his drowsiness that he could see so well, but then he remembered that he hadn’t taken off his glasses the night before. He rubbed his eyes, sleepy, and grabbed some clothes, making his way to the shower. Once inside, he realized just _where_ he was right now, and nearly slipped.

His shower ended soon afterwards. He stepped out, drying his hair quickly with a towel – and trying not to slip to his death again – and put his clothes as fast as he could. His legs got tangled with his trousers and he almost fell again, but he managed to avoid it gripping at the basin, panting in relief. He folded the towels afterwards, and eyed his unruly hair. There wasn’t much he could do with that.

He stepped out of the bathroom at the same time Celestino knocked at his door. He grabbed his things and opened the door, surprised to see the restraint in his face. Was he hungover, perhaps?

Next to him, another man stood, looking no more older than him, and Yuuri guessed he was John Bane. He looked excited to be competing in the Shanghai Cup, albeit a bit nervous. He didn’t stop babbling in all the way to the ice rink, gushing about the city, the food and heck, even Yuuri’s performance back at the Regionals, what brought a hard blush to his cheeks.

“I can’t wait to skate with you at Detroit, kid!” he exclaimed, patting his shoulder before entering the part of the ice rink reserved to competitors and coaches.

… John knew he was 18, right? He knew he looked younger than the guys his age, but he was no kid anymore. Yuuri looked at Celestino, who shrugged in reply.

“He’s very talkative when he’s nervous. He can be a bit too much sometimes. I’m sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable, but you actually helped him quell down his nerves. Thank you, Yuuri.”

“It was nothing. All I did was listen.”

He smiled wistfully at that. “Sometimes, that’s all that’s needed. You’ll understand it sometime.”

Celestino guided him to his seat, asking him if he would be alright on his own, and he nodded in reply. He said he would come for him once John finished skating and waved him goodbye, leaving him on his own. He couldn’t believe he was seating in the second row. Those seats were really exclusive, more so in a competition of that calibre. He couldn’t believe he was so lucky to be in there.

Some of the people around him looked at him curiously, having recognised the man who had just brought him there, but Yuuri did his best to ignore them, fumbling with the settings of his camera.

The first skater came to the middle of the ice, and Yuuri’s sole focus rested on him. He watched with avid eyes his performance, snapping some pictures here and there, and winced in sympathy when he fell after a jump. The skater kept going with a smile in his face, his focus in his routine not wavering one bit, and Yuuri wished he could do the same as him in the future.

The man finished his performance and went to the kiss and cry, his scores were announced – huh, not bad, considering he’d had an ugly fall – and the second skater came out to the ice. It was Christophe Giacometti, and he felt forced to avert his eyes in most of his performance. It was too… intense for his liking.

His score was announced too, placing higher than the first man skating, ant the whole crowd went wild when Viktor Nikiforov’s name was announced. The man skated elegantly to the centre of the rink, his deep blue costume shining in the artificial lights. Yuuri felt the air escape from his lungs as he leaned closer, subconsciously putting the camera to record.

Then, Viktor’s eyes scanned the crowd and stopped at his direction, gazing at them with an intensity that left him breathless and made his heart pound wildly in his chest. The time seemed to slow down until it came to a halt, as his pale eyes roamed around the crowd until focusing on him. His gaze was curious and way too playful to be any good.

There was no way he was looking at him, right?

His hazy mind strongly disagreed, and he couldn’t help but let out a dreamy sigh. Suddenly, he saw Viktor’s lips curve in a little smile before the music started.

His playful smile fell to give away to an expression of pure longing and warmth. He didn’t recognise the piece he was dancing to, but he would make sure to look for it once he got home.

His movements were more fluid than what it looked on video, if it was even possible, and Yuuri could feel his soul dancing with him. When Viktor bended, he steadied him, when he jumped, he jumped with him, and when he reached for his invisible dance partner, he met him in the middle. His heart pounded at the rhythm of the music, and his eyes were drawn to his every movement like a moth to a flame.

His dance was intense, but not the way Giacometti’s has been. It spoke of both deep passion and softness, of secret moments stolen from the world, but he wasn’t sure he was seeing something that had already happened or would happen. No matter what, it felt private, like they were seeing something they shouldn’t, but instead of feeling ashamed, they felt honoured to be allowed to see glimpses of his inner world.

The performance ended way too soon for his liking, and Viktor was already bowing at the boisterous applause filling the rink. He reached for some stuffed dogs his fans had thrown at him, choosing the poodles from all of them, and glided to the end of the ice. Yuuri could’ve sworn he caught him throwing a side-glance at his direction.

The Japanese brought the camera near to his face and stopped the recording. The presenter announced Viktor’s score for his short program, and the crowd went wild once again, as he hadn’t only placed on first place, but he’d also surpassed his personal mark. Yuuri found himself cheering with the rest of the crowd, a huge smile on his face as he clapped wildly.

He couldn’t remember very much the other performance that came afterwards, if he was being honest.

Celestino came to seat beside him once John had finished skating, and he asked him how he was liking it so far, and the older man had never seen the boy look so enthusiastic before. They watched the last performance together, and they made their way to the skaters’ area to pick John up. He’d ended third after a Greek competitor, not a bad position for his free skate.

The Italian coach asked for him to wait at the door while he fetched for the skater, and before the door closed, he saw a glimpse of bright grey hair. He waited patiently at the door, trying his best to ignore the stares people were giving him, and praying that no one would come to ask him anything.

What felt like half an hour later, Celestino came out with a happy John tagging along. He explained with detail his whole performance, something Yuuri was grateful for (as he couldn’t remember one single bit of it), and the three of them made their way out of the rink and to the busy streets of Shanghai.

Some reporters stopped John to ask him questions, and Yuuri tried to stay as far as possible from them, but they weren’t long, as he’d already answered most of the questions inside.

Before they left the rink out of sight, Yuuri turned around, looking at the building. A smile came to his face, remembering he was going to return the day after to watch professional figure skaters performing again.

And who knew? Maybe one day he’d be skating in that ice too.


	2. As silent as snow falling from the sky

Yuuri reached blindly for his glasses, the annoying sound of his phone alarm blasting off in the dark room. Once he felt his fingers bump into them, he grabbed them and put them on. He blinked in the slight darkness, and reached for the buzzing device, sighing in relief once he managed to stop the annoying alarm.

Once the noise had stopped, nothing but silence surrounded him, and it reminded him of the calm that comes before a storm.

He stayed on the bed, his mind going through everything that had happened the day before. He still couldn’t believe he was in Shanghai, watching the best figure skaters performing in life. Watching _him_ perform just a couple of metres away from him.

Still lying down, he reached for his camera and turned it on, going through the pictures he had taken the day before until he found the video he was looking for. He pressed the play button, and heard once again the thunderous applause welcoming Viktor Nikiforov at the ice stage. His eyes immediately locked in the movements he’d managed to memorise in less than a day. The recording looked surprisingly steady, considering that he hadn’t paid any mind at it.

He kept looking at the video, and paused it. There it was, when Viktor had looked at his direction. His eyes seemed focused on the camera, and gleamed with the strong lights of the room. He seemed almost ethereal in his navy blue gown, his arms arched in position and expecting the start of the music. He pressed play again and stopped a second afterwards, marvelling at the soft smile decorating the Russian face milliseconds before he started his program.

He let his fingers caress the screen subconsciously, his breath caught in his chest, just to draw them back immediately afterwards, his face burning with embarrassment. What the hell was he doing? It was one thing to have posters of the man hanging on his walls – which now he realized it might be a bit overboard – but this?

It didn’t matter that the man was more gorgeous in person than in his posters, or that he’d never been more moved with someone’s performance in his life, or that the first time he’d seen it he had desperately wished to put on some skates and jump to the ice, joining his dance.

It didn’t matter right now, because Viktor Nikiforov was way out of reach for Katsuki Yuuri. He, who the only experience he had of skating competitively was just a silly Regional competition. He had to focus on reaching the same ground as him, and then… then…

Yuuri flushed bright red and buried his face on his hands, trying to take those thoughts out of his mind. What was wrong with him today?

He got up, trying to put space between his traitorous thoughts and himself. He turned off the camera, packing it in its bag, and made the bed, not being able to stop doing his morning routine even though he wasn’t in his bedroom anymore. Once he finished, he started getting ready for the day.

He checked the time. Celestino would be busy with John that morning, so that left him all by himself. Now that he was on his own, he had no idea what to do with his free time. They wouldn’t let him go inside the rink while the skaters were practicing, and he didn’t feel like revisiting the same tourist spots as the day before. Sighing, he picked up his camera and the card of his room, and left the room.

He stepped out the hotel and began wandering around, trying to find something to do to pass up time. He bought a local snack at a tiny food stall, having no idea what it was made of and not caring in the slightness.

Even though Shanghai was beautiful, it was too busy for his liking. He missed the calmness of his little town, and the cool sea breeze that would always caress your skin no matter where you were. Being alone in such a big city made him feel a bit lonely, after all.

He heard the joyous laugh of children nearby, and he turned his head to see where they were coming from. There, at the other side of the street, was a long queue of children and young people, their chattering reaching his ears despite the loud rows of cars between them. He crossed the street, curious to see what they were doing, and his eyes landed on the big mass of ice. It was an outdoor temporary ice rink.

Suddenly craving for skating for a bit, he made his way to the end of the queue and waited patiently for his turn. He wouldn’t have his skates, and the rink wasn’t in the best condition, but he couldn’t help to feel excited to get to the ice once again.

He soon reached the beginning of the queue, and he said his foot size to the only woman who understood English. She handed him some worn-out skates and guided him to some makeshift lockers, hurrying to the main desk once again. He kept his camera and his jacket in one of the lockers, grateful that he wouldn’t need to keep an eye on them when he skated.

He tested the skates before going out to the ice. They were really worn out and a bit uncomfortable, but that was to be expected. He’d skated in worse, anyway. He made his way to the entrance to the ice and let the dull blades rest on the ice.

Once he overcame the little feeling of vertigo, he glided alongside the other people, trying to get used to the skates. The turns came out a bit rough, nothing that couldn’t be solved with a bit more of strength in his rotations, and he almost fell when one of the blades got stuck into a piece of loose ice, but he was soon getting the hang of it.

What he didn’t get was why everyone was skating in circles. Didn’t they get bored of spinning around endlessly? Because it was getting old for him quickly. Moreover, the ice on the middle was smoother, probably because not many people dared to skate in there. He saw a couple skate to the middle, and the woman did a single Salchow, landing a bit roughly but managing to keep standing. People cheered and clapped around them.

What would it happen if they saw him perform instead?

He heard soft music coming from somewhere and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on it. Soon, the noise of the crowd became lower, until he felt he was alone in the ice. He didn’t realize he was drifting closer to the centre until he was at the edge between the people and the deserted ice.

Finding more space in there, he began doing some steps at the rhythm of the music, just for fun. He mishmashed steps from the step sequence of his Free Skate, then tried to imitate Viktor’s steps of the day before. Giving up pretending he was following the stream of people, he skated to the middle of the rink, not stopping his dancing. He felt his skates more secure on the ice, and he let himself do complex movements, tying the first one with the following one, then the following, composing an improvised choreography.

He fell into a camel spin and he heard clapping at the rhythm of the music. People had stopped skating to look at him, giving him more space for his performance, something he was grateful for. Their cheering, instead of turning him into a ball of nerves, helped him keep going, and made him want to show off a bit. Should he try to make a jump?

He made a toe-loop combination, and the crowd went wild. He had to put extra force to his landing, but he managed to land it perfectly. He then returned to his step sequence, letting a smile of excitement graze his lips. He followed the music, doing some twirls here, some spins there, and one or two spirals. Once he felt that the song was about to end, he fell into a spread eagle and yet another camel spin, retracting to himself to gain speed – god knows those dull blades needed that extra impulse – until he straightened up, his arm thrown to the air.

He ended at the same time as the song did, and the crowd went wild. He blinked at them, not comprehending why he saw them so blurry, until he realized he’d taken out his glasses at one point of his skating, and he was holding them in his left hand. He put them on and waved at the crowd shyly.

Feeling satisfied with his skating, he made his way to the exit, and some people tried to stop him to take a picture with him, which he politely refused. The woman who had given him the skates congratulated him once he stepped out of the ice, and asked him to come back tomorrow to skate for free, but he had to refuse, as he would need the morning to get his luggage ready for the trip.

He put on his shoes and retrieved his camera and jacket, feeling lighter than before. Skating had been just the thing he had needed to cheer up. Looking down at the clock, he realized he only had two hours until he met Celestino, and decided it was better to make his way back to the hotel.

With a renewed spring in his walk, he made his way back.

* * *

After having a light lunch at the hotel, he laid once again in his room, cleaning his camera from crooked or moved pictures and making space for more pictures he was sure that were about to come. He tried no to linger too much on Viktor’s video, supressing his blush as his thoughts returned to the same place they were at that morning.

He only watched it two more times, he promised.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts and he got up of the bed, going to open the door. Outside, Celestino waited for him, wearing a strange expression in his face. Yuuri looked around, but he couldn’t see John anywhere.

“He’s waiting for us at the reception,” the older man answered, noticing him looking for the skater.

He nodded, and both of them made their way to the elevator.

“So, Yuuri,” he began, and Yuuri frowned at the strange voice the other man was making. “How has your day been?”

“Oh, good. I’ve been around the city, trying to find ways to make the wait shorter. I really wanted to go to the ice rink again.”

Celestino hummed. “And you bumped into an ice rink of your own, huh?”

He stopped in his tracks, startled. “H-how do you know that?”

Celestino brought out his phone and started scrolling down. Once he found what he was looking for, he showed the phone to Yuuri, who looked at the screen with confusion. He recognised the Twitter logo immediately, and he read the contents of the tweet in confusion.

**LoveForIce** The Shanghai Cup bringing out the best of everyone! #ShanghaiCup2011 #IceSkating #FigureSkating #Nice #LookAtThoseMoves!!

There was also a Youtube link. He clicked on it and let the video load, only to gasp in surprise when he saw himself skating. The video was a bit shaky but the quality of image was good, so it was probably recorded with a camera. The ice rink was crowded, but the skater in the middle didn’t seem to mind one bit. He couldn’t remember when he’d skated so smoothly, to be honest.

He then looked at how many views the video had, and his jaw slackened. _Oh my god._

“You’re trending topic in China.”

“T-trending topic?”

“A real mystery. The enchanting boy that appeared from nowhere and charmed the people around him, just to disappear right after his performance. The most romantic tweets speak of a fantastical creature, an ice Nymph that was hiding between humans but, after seeing that the Shanghai Cup was taking place, they decided to come out to play.”

I-ice Nymph???!? What???

Celestino shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I hadn’t expected you’d bring so much attention to you even before I started training you. Now I want to take you to Detroit more than ever.”

Yuuri buried his head in his scarf, his blush reaching even the tips of his ears. He groaned against the cloth, clenching his eyes shut. “Oh my god, this is embarrassing”

“Why? Didn’t you tell me some months ago that you wanted to show everyone your love for skating, no matter where you skated?” He elbowed him slightly, teasingly. “Have you changed your mind already?”

He paused, looking at the closed doors of the elevator, and his eyes gleamed in determination. The answer came quickly. “… No, I still think the same.”

Celestino’s eyes softened. “I know. It showed in your performance. It was completely wild and free, but there’s one thing clear – you’re having a great time. Am I right, Yuuri?”

“Yes.”

The elevator made a ding sound, and the doors opened before them. John was waiting for them there, absentmindedly looking to his phone and leaning on the wall. Once he heard the doors of the elevator open, he raised his gaze and waved at them, a big smile on his face.

“Yuuri! I’ve just watched a video of you skating in an outdoor ice rink! You were awesome!”

Yuuri let himself be buried in his scarf again. No matter how many times he was told he was good, it was still embarrassing.

“T-thanks, John.”

“No sweat, kid.” He nodded to his coach. “Should we go?”

The three of them got in a cab, and Celestino told the driver the address of the ice rink. Yuuri stared through the window the whole ride, his mind subconsciously falling back to the memory of his skates on the ice, of feeling, for once, confident in what he did, not afraid of what people may think of him.

What had brought this behaviour on him? he wondered. It wasn’t the crowd, as crowds (no matter if they were big or little) always seemed to follow him whenever he skated in a competition, but something else. Neither it was the lack of choreography, as he followed Viktor’s routine at first, then his own.

Maybe it’d been because he’d tried to put himself in Viktor’s skates? Yuuko and him used to follow Viktor’s routines for fun when they were little, maybe him doing it on his own had brought him back to those days? But that didn’t seem right, either.

The memory of Viktor Nikiforov looking at him, the cyan blue accentuating his marble skin and bright eyes suddenly came to his mind, and Yuuri opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them until then. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts – once again –, and he looked outside again. The scenery was familiar – they were getting closer to the ice rink. Expectation pooled in his gut, and he couldn’t supress the ecstatic grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He was going to see Viktor skating again!

The car stopped, and John immediately opened the door, Celestino following him closely. The skater was suddenly too silent, and Yuuri immediately noticed the sudden tension on his shoulders, and how his clenched fists seemed to tremble. When he managed to catch up with them – boy, didn’t they walk fast – he saw John’s sight unfocused, looking forward.

He knew all too well what was going on in his mind.

But what could he do about it? Anxiety was really complex, and he’d learnt in the hard way that what could calm someone down would send someone else to their breaking point. Celestino seemed to have notice too, and was looking at his skater worriedly.

What had the coach said the day before? That John talked his nerves out? But what could he say to make him speak so much? He wasn’t a very talkative person to begin with.

So worried he was for the other skater, that he didn’t notice the boy walking towards him, busy checking out a phone and neither looking where he was going. They crashed into one another, and Yuuri fell on top of the boy, his tiny elbow knocking the air out of his chest.

“Get off me, you fatso!” the blond mass of anger growled under him. Yuuri shook his head, clearing his confusion from the fall and looked down, only to see two green eyes throwing daggers at him.

“I-I’m so sorry!” he cried, and he got off the boy.

God, he looked so _young_! Ten, maybe eleven, for the looks of it. The boy’s scowl deepened, he reached for the phone, which had flown some metres away from the crash, and got up, never stopping glaring at him.

“Look where you’re going, dumbass.” And then his mouth began muttering way too many consonants together to even consider it a language, and from the way he was talking, he was pretty sure that what he was saying wasn’t very polite.

“But you weren’t looking either…” he muttered, trying his best not to pout.

A loud laugh startled him, and he looked up just to see John clutching at his belly, his eyes closed merrily. He got up, dusting off his pants and fidgeted in his place, not exactly sure of what to do but wait for him to stop. Celestino looked bemused, and they were _definitely_ drawing attention.

John’s laughs finally quietened down, and he dried off the stray tears from the corner of his eyes. “God, Yuuri. Sorry, but- your face when he growled was _priceless_.” And then he began giggling again.

Could he crawl into a hole until everything was over?

Celestino shook his head, looking, in his opinion, way too amused by the situation, and tapped the older skater on the back. “Enough of making fun of the boy, John. We need to get going now. Will you be able to find your seat, Yuuri?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I remember where it was.”

“Okay. Let’s go, John.”

“Sure thing.” He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks. He then rubbed Yuuri’s hair playfully, making it stand in all directions. “Thanks, kid, your little incident calmed me down a bit. Now I’m ready to kick ass!”

“Vocabulary, John.” Celestino reprimanded beside him.

“I’m prepared to _beat everyone_.” He threw a playful glance at his coach. “Cheer for me?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed, a full smile blowing in his face.

John chuckled and messed his hair a bit more, ignoring Yuuri’s complaints. He then left the room alongside Celestino, throwing a “See ya, kid!” before the door closed behind him. Despite being already 18, and only five cm shorter than the other skater, he had a feeling he’d be ‘kid’ for a long time.

Sighting with amused exasperation, he looked around, trying to spot the door leading to the tiers, and then for his seat. Once he spotted it, he settled down, and admired the shining expanse of immaculate ice in front of him. He felt anticipation pooling at the bottom of his stomach, and he bit his lip to stop his squeals.

The boisterous voice of the announcer welcomed them, making a review of the scores at the short program, and explaining the free skate programs. The first skater came out of the ice, and Yuuri remembered him from being the first skater who’d come out to skate first the day before. He winced slightly at the poor colour choice of his costume, and decided against snapping a picture.

His skating was… extravagant, to say the least. The announcer had said the day before that his theme for this competition was ‘Heart of steel’, and he guessed he could see it in his almost robotic movements.

That didn’t mean it was a good choice, so to speak.

After the first skater finished, another came in, one that Yuuri didn’t recognise. Probably acted after Viktor, Yuuri’s mind embarrassingly quipped. He was pretty good, and Yuuri found himself clapping with the audience at the rhythm of the music. He fell once, but managed to keep smiling until the end.

Then, it was Christophe’ turn to step out to the ice. Women’s screams filled the vast room as soon as Chris’ skates touched the ice, and the skater did two leisure laps, letting everyone admire his body clad in a skin-tight black costume. Once he finished, he stopped in the middle of the rink, draping his arms around himself like a lovers’ embrace, his face contorting in an expression of deep pleasure. Yuuri rolled his eyes, not sure whether to be uncomfortable or exasperated.

Nonetheless, he snapped some pictures, capturing the man’s routine with a few shots. Maybe he could take inspiration in some of this? Not in the fondling choreography, but in the most technical parts of it. Chris was an impressive performer, after all; with a unique style and a trademark that he carried in every routine he skated.

The Swiss skater finished his performance, sprawled in the ice with flushed cheeks and panting slightly, his eyes half-lidded, and Yuuri refused to wonder why. He slowly got up and made his way to the kiss and cry, while he waited for his score. Once it was announced, the rink exploded in cheers – he’d managed to obtain a really good score, one that would allow him to fight for a place in the podium.

Then, it was John’s turn. As soon as he stepped out, he could see the tension in his shoulders again, and Yuuri worried his lip. Would he be okay?

While he was doing a lap around before falling in his starting position, he caught his eye and grinned at the younger boy, the tension in his whole body easing. He then fell into his starting position, one arm raised and oozing confidence, and Yuuri let out a sigh of relief. He was going to be okay.

He hit record as the same time as the music started playing. He marvelled at the complicated step sequence that was displayed in front of him, and the cheery music and his confident movements elated the crowd. Some of the audience that knew the lyrics began singing and clapping along, Yuuri being one of them. He cheered at every jump well landed, and smiled at every spin.

His performance ended way too quickly. John turned his head slightly, smirking in victory at him, and he gave him thumbs up. His score landed him in front of Giacometti by four points, and he saw Celestino and him celebrating it at the kiss and cry. He deserved the score.

It didn’t go so well for the fifth contestant. He fell in his first jump, and Yuuri winced when he saw his toe bend as it did. He tried to keep on going, but his performance was floppy and strained, probably because of the pain the poor man was feeling. His score also showed it, and he fell into the fourth place, John still being the leader.

But that wouldn’t last long, as Viktor waited at the edge of the ice. His body was draped in a dark costume, which glinted with garnet hues when the light hit it directly. He ran his hand through his silver hair, his movements elegant and already in character. He heard squeals and sighs all around him coming from either women or men alike. ~~He might have squealed too~~.

Viktor finally stepped onto the ice, and the crowd cheered like there was no tomorrow. Viktor made a lazy lap around, his eyes focused in the audience with a seriousness quite out of character in the Russian. He felt his heart skip a beat when he glided closer and closer to them, his breath hitching when he was just mere metres away from him. Would his eyes land on him, just as they did the day before? Or had that been just a crazy coincidence, an once in a lifetime happenstance?

His eyes finally rested on him, and Yuuri exhaled in a mix or relief and anticipation. His clear eyes bore into him, so intense that Yuuri felt like drowning in them. It was like, in that fleeting moment, he was seeing right through him; his insecurities, his competitiveness, his sheer determination to skate with him as an equal… all bare in his eyes and waiting for his sentence. Yuuri felt like his whole destiny was held in those clear blue orbs, and he wasn’t sure whether he minded or not.

Then, Viktor’s mouth curved slightly in a seductive smirk and raised his head a little, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. He then proceeded to glide to the centre of the ice, his eyes never leaving him, and almost daring him to keep his eyes on the skater the whole performance. ‘Watch me, Yuuri,’ they said, and he obliged eagerly.

He rested the palm of his hand against his cheek in a warm caress, and the other one he placed it on his chest, almost simulating the touch of a lover. He closed his eyes and waited for the music to start. The ice rink fell silent.

A violin began playing, the only chord echoing in the room. Viktor’s eyes snapped opened, and his hands slowly moved at the rhythm of the violin. His eyes never left Yuuri. Soon, a synthesiser followed, shaping the song into a tango, and the soft voice of a woman sang with honeyed voice along.

Viktor glided with elegance, his steps reminding the audience of the ballroom dance, but combining it with a step sequence that clearly belonged to figure skating. Just as the violin piqued up, he made a quadruple flip, and landed it effortlessly. His movements were sharp but gentle, enacting the melody of the violin, and dancing along with an invisible partner.

After a spread eagle that seemed to glide with the woman’s voice, Viktor did an Axel-Half Loop-Double Salchow combination, and immediately fell into his step sequence again, twirling and bending, daring everyone to try to look away from him.

Yuuri could feel the song coming to an end as the violin piqued up again, and Viktor fell from a flying camel spin then crouched down in a seat spin to get the final impulse for his final crossfoot spin. He extended his hand to the air at the end, almost reaching for his lover in desperation, and the violin drew his final note, leaving the rink in silence.

No one dared to break the silence for some seconds, but as soon as someone began clapping, the whole room fell into pandemonium. However, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to move, he just could stare at the skater as he bowed and picked up stuffed dogs. The fair-skinned man threw him a glance before he stepped out of sight, curiosity burning in his gaze, and Yuuri did everything he had in hand to stop himself from gapping at the sight.

His score was later announced, and the public fell into pandemonium once again – he had beaten the world’s record punctuation for the Free Skate program, making once again history on his own. He looked slightly surprised at the result, and a genuine smile began blooming in his face. His coach threw his arm around his shoulders, which looked a bit awkward, as Viktor was taller than him, and showing for the first time an emotion that wasn’t gruffness.

After the winners ceremony – where John got his well-deserved silver medal – people began leaving the ice rink, eager to get a last glimpse of their favourite figure skaters before they had to leave. Yuuri followed them absentmindedly, ready to join Celestino and John in the main lounge.

His thoughts, however, were far away from there, more exactly, trained on someone’s performance. His mind kept on repeating flashes of his dance, and he was mildly surprised he hadn’t bumped into someone (or something) already.

He didn’t realise when he got to the main lounge, but suddenly he heard his name being called, and saw Celestino and an ecstatic John waving at him. He went to join them, nodding politely at both of them.

“Congratulations for winning silver, John. You deserve it.”

He beamed, showing him the medal proudly. “Thanks, Yuuri. Take a close look at this, because soon you’ll be the one winning, my boy.”

“I-I think I have a way to go until I can participate in a Grand Prix,” he stammered.

“Nonsense. Mark my words, Yuuri. In a blink of an eye, you’ll be skating in here. I just hope we can compete against each other.” He winked then, and Yuuri couldn’t supress his grin. Man, his good mood was infectious.

“Did you have fun?” Celestino asked him.

Yuuri nodded. “Everyone’s programs were so unique and complex, and I can’t wait to watch everyone’s performances again. I’ve learnt so much in these two days. Thank you for bringing me here, Celestino.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Show me your gratitude at the ice next year, boy.”

“I will.”

The three of them made their way outside, the two older men chatting animatedly, while Yuuri fell slightly behind, pensive. He was kind of disappointed that the Shanghai Cup was already over, and he could already feel that familiar feeling of hollowness you got when you finished a good book or series. He felt the same as always and different at the same time, and he had no idea of what that meant.

The Cup was already over, and his trip would finish the next afternoon, when his plane left to Fukaoka Airport. What would he do until then? Maybe he could sneak to the outdoor skating ring, just as he’d done that morning, or maybe he could sort out the pictures he’d got today. He was disappointed he hadn’t been able to get even a picture from Viktor’s Free Skate, but it had been worth it.

… Speaking of the camera, where was it?

Yuuri patted his jacket, trying and not succeeding to feel the hard edges of the device. He then looked around, trying to spot the rectangular object on the floor, but failing to see it. Where had it been the last time he’d seen it? It’d been when Viktor had stepped out to the ice, wasn’t it?

Cursing at his stupidity, he called for the other men. “I can’t find my camera anywhere. I think I left it in the rink, so I’ll go back and look for it.”

“Sure, we’ll wait for you.” John quipped. Celestino shook his head.

“We can’t, John. We have the banquet afterwards, and we’re already running late.” He sighed. “Those annoying reporters didn’t let us go easily.”

“But we can’t make the kid forget about his camera. Let him go look for it, coach.”

Celestino paused, looking from Yuuri, to the ice rink and John, a frown crippling his face. “Do you know the hotel’s address?” Yuuri nodded. “Okay. You go look for that camera, and we’ll be going ahead, and once you catch the taxi you call me, okay?”

Yuuri nodded eagerly. “Sure.”

“Fine.” He handed him some yuan. “Use this to pay for the taxy. It should be enough. And be quick – it’s beginning to snow pretty heavily. I want you to return safe and sound home.”

“I’ll be done in 15 minutes, 20 tops. Thanks, Celestino!”

He ran back to the rink, the remaining people in there already leaving. His footsteps echoed in the silent corridors, trying to find once again the door leading to the tiers. The ice rink was completely empty, and the lights were shut out, but there was still enough residual light for him to be able to make his way without falling.

He soon spotted his seat and looked around, easily spotting his camera lying at the side, completely forgotten. He picked it up with a sigh of relief, making sure it still worked, and made his way back.

Was it him, or everything was quieter than before? Even the corridor’s lights were shut now, and Yuuri couldn’t supress the shiver running through his spine. It was silly – the corridor looked exactly the same it did some minutes ago, but there was something in the atmosphere that made his heart beat erratically and his skin get goose bumps.

The air was cold and stifling at the same time. He heard a loud banging sound and he yelped, startled. The sound came from ahead of him, and soon, heavy footsteps began getting closer to him. Yuuri, with his heart already in his throat, got closer to the wall, trying to convince himself that everything was alright. He saw the light of a flash far away.

So focused as he was on the lights and the sound ahead of him, he didn’t see the door in his left open, and two strong arms reach for him until he had one hand covering his mouth, the other arm dragging him to the room where they came from. The hand on his mouth stifled a scream, but soon his throat couldn’t make any sound, as his eyes met a very familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at him.


	3. A Dance of Ice and Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, people. This is the chapter that gave birth to the whole story. I hope you like it!  
> I had to split this chapter into two because it was turning out too long. So, instead of 4 chapters, expect this fic to be about 6-7 chapters long (because I know myself and I know that next chapters are going to end up being too long too).

Yuuri stared with wide eyes at the man in front of him, his mouth gaping against the pale hand covering it, and failing to make a sound. Viktor’s eyes went from him to the door, clutching the younger man closer when the steps outside became louder.

His yelp was muffled by Viktor’s chest then, and his head couldn’t stop reeling by the fact that he was being hugged by no other than Viktor Nikiforov himself.

He could hear his heart beating and the blood rushing through his ears, blocking almost all the background sound. However, he could still hear Viktor’s breathing, feel his strong (and quite fast) heartbeat against his mouth, and the footsteps from the man outside getting fainter and fainter until he couldn’t hear them altogether. He felt the lithe hand on his nape flinch slightly. Wait, when had he even put it in there?

After what it seemed like a lifetime, and at the same time not long enough, Viktor’s hold on him loosened, and Yuuri leaned back. He stared at the man’s face, not quite sure if that was really happening, and his cheeks reddened when he realised that he was crouching mere inches away from Viktor’s growing grin.

“I-I’m sorry!” he spluttered as he tried to get away, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Viktor in return closed the distance between them again and shushed him, placing a finger on his lips. “Be quiet, or he’s going to come back.”

Yuuri cocked his head in confusion. “Who?”

“The security guard.”

The… the security guard? “Why are we hiding from him in the first place?”

“Because there’s no point in sneaking in a closed place if we get caught, is there?” He winked at him and immediately turned to the door, standing up and looking through the little window at the top of it. That made him miss Yuuri gaping at the older man like a fish. “I can’t see him now. Let’s go.”

Viktor reached for his hand and tugged, helping him stand up. That snapped him out of his stupor. “Where to?”

“The rink.”

The older skater didn’t let go of his hand as he opened the door and lead him to the ice rink, stopping once in a while to see if they heard the guard’s footsteps again. Yuuri wasn’t exactly sure why he was being dragged into this, but he followed him silently all the same. He didn’t know how much time they spent turning randomly at the seeming infinite corridors and hiding when one of them heard any sound, but finally, they ended once again at the ice rink.

The clean ice glinted with the soft moonlight coming from the windowpanes, becoming the only source of light in the big room. What just mere minutes ago had seemed haunting and intimidating, it now sparkled with a beauty that managed to take his breath away.

He stepped forward, not taking notice how Viktor’s grip in his hand had slackened, and walked until he reached the limiting walls. He rested his hands on the barrier and leaned on it, looking around with a soft smile. It was almost as if the ice was begging him to skate on it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Yuuri turned his head to the left, only to see Viktor standing beside him. His gaze was focused forwards, his crossed arms resting on the edge of the barrier. He was leaning forward, and his shoulders were relaxed.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen the other man as calm as then.

Yuuri returned his gaze forward and hummed in agreement. “It really is. It looks so different from an hour ago.”

“I know, right? That’s why I like to come to closed ice rinks once in a while. It’s so peaceful, so calming… it makes me remember just how much I love the ice.”

“I can relate to that.”

Viktor’s eyes went from the ice to Yuuri. “What’s your name?”

He startled slightly at the question. “Oh, me? Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Viktor Nikiforov.” _As if he needed to be introduced._ He extended a pale hand towards him, smiling. “Nice to meet you too.”

Yuuri shook his hand, praying that his hands weren’t trembling so much. He was speaking to his long-time idol. As in having a conversation between the two of them. Was this real?

Now that he thought about it, everything about that situation was strange. Viktor was supposed to attend at the Post Competition banquet with his fellow skaters and coaches, wearing expensive suits, drinking fancy champagne and having god knows what conversations. So what was he still doing in there, wearing his white and red runner jacket and black pants?

“Um,” Yuuri called for Viktor’s attention, who quickly turned his head to hear him. “I was wondering… W-why aren’t you at the banquet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He simply shrugged. “I didn’t feel like going. Those parties are always the same, although I’ve heard that Christophe really knows how to spice things up. But-“ he returned his gaze to the ice- “I wanted some alone time with the ice after the competition.”

A comfortable silence fell between them. Yuuri could relate to that feeling. After a competition, the ice always felt strange, and he needed some time to get used to its calmness again. Maybe they were similar in that.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” he snapped out of his reverie.

Viktor turned his head so he was facing him again. He rested his chick in his open palm, and cocked his head in curiosity. “What are you doing in here, so late in the night, Yuuri?”

His heart skipped a beat at the way his name sounded in Viktor’s lips, his slight accent making it even more endearing.

“O-oh, um, I forgot my camera. I came back to get it.” _And then you dragged me into the closet room._ “Which reminds me- I need to get going, someone’s waiting for me, and I don’t want to worry them.”

Viktor hummed in answer. “Who’s waiting for you? Your girlfriend?”

“No-”

“Boyfriend, then?”

“No!” he exclaimed, then blushed at his outburst. “My coach. Well, coach-to-be. He invited me to come to see the Shanghai Cup with him.”

“Then we better get going, we don’t want to keep Celestino waiting, right?” He straightened up and left his place at the barrier. “Come on, I’ll get you to the door.”

He walked to the entrance, his movements as fluid as when he was on ice. Yuuri had been so worried about the guard before that he hadn’t paid any attention before. It seemed that Viktor’s performance didn’t end when he took out his skates.

He rushed to his side, not really wanting to fall behind, and once they were nearing the main room, Viktor’s words really caught up with him.

“W-wait!” He stopped in his tracks. Viktor turned around, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “How do you know Celestino’s my coach?”

A slow smile began blossoming in his face, once too wicked and knowing to be of any good. “Secret,” he sing-songed, and Yuuri resisted the urge to groan.

They reached the door, and the cold from outside seeped through the thin glass. Yuuri shivered and zipped up his jacket. It was snowing heavily outside, the wind blowing so strong that the snowflakes became a white blur. Snow piled up at the streets, blocking the exit.

Yuuri was really not looking forward his way back to the hotel.

Viktor whistled behind him. “That’s an ugly blizzard. Are you sure you want to go out with that weather?” No, he really didn’t, but what was he supposed to do? They both looked at the growing pile of snow at the floor outside. “Can you even open the door?”

Yuuri placed his hand in the handle, and the cold of the metal bit his sensitive skin. Swallowing a grimace, he pushed forward, but the door remained in the same position. He pushed again, stronger this time, but he didn’t even manage to move the glass a centimetre forward.

“Oh, god, we’re locked in.”

At that moment, his phone began ringing, and Yuuri looked for it hastily. He has filled with dread when he saw Celestino’s name pop up at the screen. Oh, no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. He was supposed to be at the hotel by this time, not in the ice rink. What was he supposed to tell him!?

“Pick up the phone and tell Celestino what happened,” Viktor said, “I’m going to call for someone to help us get out, okay?”

Yuuri looked down at his phone, which kept on buzzing on his hand. Not really sure what he was going to tell him, he picked it up, bringing the device to his ear.

_“Yuuri! Thank god you picked it up.”_ He heard him sigh from the other side. _“Where are you? Are you at the hotel? You got us so worried.”_

“Oh, right.” He winced. He saw from the corner of his eye Viktor taking some steps back, waving with his own phone. He guessed he was going to make that phone call. “It’s kind of a long story, but… We’ve been locked up in the ice rink, and we can’t get out.”

_“You’re locked in the ice rink!? How is that even possible? There should have been a guard checking that no one’s there before leaving.”_

_Yeah, but we were hiding from him._ “We… missed him? Anyways, we’re calling for someone to help us get out, so don’t worry! I’ll call you when we get out.”

There was a pause at the other side, before Celestino spoke up again. _“… You keep talking in plural. Is there someone in there with you?”_

_Crap!_

He looked back at the Russian skater, who talked in a hushed voice on his phone. He couldn’t understand one bit of it, so he assumed he was speaking in Russian. Did the ice rink have operatives who understood Russian? Viktor noticed him staring and grinned at him, giving him thumbs up. He waved awkwardly back then turned back again, looking outside at the piling snow.

“Yeah, I’m not alone. Another person got locked in too; we met some minutes ago.” _Like forty-five minutes ago, but pay no mind to that._ “He’s calling for someone to get us out of here as we speak.”

Celestino sighed. _“Who would’ve known something like this would happen… at least you’re not alone, something I’m glad for.”_

“Yeah, you’ve got nothing to worry about!” he remarked with an overly-cheery voice. He winced inwardly at how fake it sounded. He hoped Celestino wouldn’t catch up his lie. “Anyway, how is the party going? Any fun?”

_“The same as any other party, I guess. John is having way too much fun with Christophe Giacometti, and I’ve seen them revolving around a pole I didn’t even know the room had.”_ He groaned, sounding suddenly tired. _“I guess it’ll be time to babysit my figure skater again. I’m getting too old for this. Yuuri, I hope you behave more properly in these banquets, you hear me?”_

“Yeah, sir. I, uh, I don’t like to drink very much.”

He’d had alcohol once, and once was enough. He would really love to know how he ended up waking up one metre away from the ofuro with only his tie on his head. He never found the rest of his clothes from that night.

_“Also, Viktor Nikiforov hasn’t shown up.”_ Celestino commented absentmindedly. Yuuri tensed at the words, and shot a look at the other man. He seemed engrossed with the conversation he was having on his phone. _“Yakov was here, though, but didn’t say anything about the matter. He looked pretty angry, but when has he looked any different?”_

“H-how strange.”

_“Yeah. Who knows what crosses Viktor’s mind. Honestly, he’s- John! Don’t take your pants off!”_ he yelled, _“Yuuri, I need to go. Call me when you get out of there, okay?”_

“Sure, but Celestino-!”

The call ended before he could say anything else, and Yuuri lowered the phone, frowning slightly at it. He turned slightly too look at the other man, and managed to catch some of his conversation. Not that he understood it.

"… Яков, я не вернусь сегодня в отель, увидимся завтра." And with that, he hung up. Noticing that Yuuri was looking at him, he grinned and trotted to his direction.

“What did they say? Are they coming to get us?”

Viktor shook his head, but he didn’t lose his easy-going smile. “No, they said they couldn’t take us out until the snowstorm receded.”

“Wha- Bu- You look way too cheerful over this!” he protested.

He shrugged in response. “I wanted to stay here in the first place. Now come on!” He grabbed Yuuri’s arm and began dragging him god knows where.

“Where to?”

“The changing room. I have my bag in there; luckily Yakov didn’t remember to order someone around to take it. I also saw some spare skates in there, with luck some will fit you.”

“Skates?” he spluttered when realisation hit him, “are we going to _skate?_ ”

“Yep!”

Viktor opened a door leading to what clearly looked like one changing room. He quickly spotted his bag and sat beside it, taking out his skates immediately. Yuuri ogled at the beautiful (and clearly expensive) skates before he shook his head, trying to focus on the matter in hand.

“We can’t skate, Viktor! We shouldn’t even _be_ here!”

“Why not?” he asked, bended to take out his shoes, “we’ll be here for a while, so might as well use our time and do something, no?”

Yuuri only gaped, trying to come with a comeback to it, but coming out empty. Meanwhile, Viktor ended putting on his skates and loomed over Yuuri, gracefully steady even on his protector-covered blades.

“Yuuri?” _God, stop saying my name like that!_ he mentally screeched, and he could feel the heat pooling in his cheeks as Viktor got closer and closer. “Skate with me? I want to see you skate like you did this morning.”

This… morning? Oh… the video.

“You… you saw the video?” he said with meek voice.

He nodded, a smile teasing his lips. He leaned closer. “Yakov sent it to me, and told me to watch it. I might be biased, but I think I recognised some of my short program’s step sequence in there?”

Yuuri’s mind short-circuited in there. His eyes widened, and his face made its best imitation of a bright red tomato. He tried to say something, _anything,_ but the only sound that came from his mouth was a high-pitched squeal. He buried his face in his hands, not even caring that his glasses were pressed against his nose uncomfortably, and screeched again against his palms. _Of course he recognised his step sequence!_

"Ты очень милый."

Yuuri raised his head at that, embarrassment momentarily forgotten but his cheeks still flushed, and blinked in confusion at the other man. “What?”

“Nothing.” His smile widened.

“No, what did you say? That was Russian, right?”

“It was.” He turned around and began scanning the spare skates lying in there. “Which is your food size?”

“Huh?” Oh, for the skates. If he had a 24.5, in China it was… “Oh, um, a 40, I think.”

“40? You have such tiny feet!” He grabbed a pair of skates and checked the blades before handing them to him. “This should fit you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He sat down and began taking off his shoes and putting on the skates, while Viktor waited, humming a little song under his breath. He was tying the second skate when his hands froze on the action. When… when had he agreed to skate with him? Viktor had ignored all his questions and managed to subconsciously convince him to skate with him at the same time.

Dancing between a groan and a laugh, he finished tying up his skate. After all the pain of finding him a pair of skates that fit him, he may as well humour him. Moreover, he felt thrilled to know he was going to skate with him, not that he’d tell him that. It was too embarrassing.

Viktor grabbed his arm once he finished tying up his skates and walked him to rink, almost as if he was making sure he didn’t run away. Once they were at the edge, Viktor finally let go, and glided to the centre with his characteristic elegance. He came to a stop and turned around, extending his hand towards Yuuri in a silent request. Yuuri joined him afterwards, and they began doing lazy laps at the ice.

It felt soothing. The dim light of the crescent moonlight shone against the ice, illuminating everything in a bluish hue. The only sound that filled the always crowded room was their deep breathing and their blades caressing the ice. Yuuri lost himself to his senses, soon forgetting the ball of nerves buried deep within his stomach and letting himself reconnect with the ice once again.

“How did Celestino and you meet?” Viktor’s voice came from the other side of the rink.

Yuuri opened his eyes, not having realised he’d closed them until then, and looked over there. His profile was shadowed but it was bright enough to see his relaxed features, and his clear blue eyes were fixated on him. He had to repress a shiver.

“Ah, he came to the Japan Regionals, and I was competing there. After the winners ceremony, he was talking to Minako-sensei.”

“Minako-sensei?”

“My ballet instructor. She’s the closest thing of a coach that I have, and she’s a real fan of ice skating, so when I asked her to accompany me to the Regionals, she had everything packed in about five minutes.”

Viktor chuckled at that. “I’d love to meet this woman.”

“Oh, she’d love meeting you too. She’d scream for a long time… or have a seizure.”

Viktor reached him, and both skated alongside each other. “And what happened once you met?”

“He congratulated me for my first place, we talked a bit, and he offered to coach me in Detroit the next season. He also invited me coming in here, something I’m deeply grateful for.” He scratched his neck uncomfortably. “To be honest, I don’t know why he’s favouring me so much. There are a lot of figure skaters way better than me.”

They fell in silence, Viktor deep in thought. Then, when Yuuri stopped hearing Viktor skating beside him, he stopped and turned around, just to see Viktor with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side, an unreadable expression in his face.

“Viktor?”

“Say, Yuuri.” _How could he make his name sound so well?_ “Do you have the music of any of your programs in your phone?”

“Oh, yeah.” He took his phone from his pocket and looked for one of the songs. Once he spotted it, he pressed play, and let the soft melody of a harp and violins fill the room.

Viktor didn’t say anything for a while, just closed his eyes and gave his whole attention to listening to the soft melody. Once the song finished, he opened them again, and smiled.

“Which was this, your short program or free skate?”

“Free skate.”

Viktor nodded, as if he already suspected it and wanted to confirm it. “Yuuri… perform your free skate for me.”

What? Viktor wanted to see him perform his free skate? Like now, without warming up and with a high chance of his nerves getting in the way? He was going to mess up all his jumps. He was going to make a complete fool of himself in front of his long-life idol. He would laugh at him and never talk to him again, and he would lose the chance to compete against him at the Grand Prix someday.

He knew he wanted to perform for Viktor, but he’d never expected it to be so soon!

He shook his head. “I can’t do that!”

“Come on, skate for me,” he whined like a child

He turned around to stop himself to look at him. “I-I’d rather not.”

Viktor wasn’t relented by his efforts in avoiding the situation, and skated around the boy so he was facing him again.

“Please?” his mouth stuck out in a pout, but Yuuri could see him struggling not to laugh.

He shook his head violently. “I’m nowhere near your level in skating.”

“I don’t care. I just want to see you skate.”

“No.”

“Yuuri.” That stopped his spiralling thoughts of self-doubt – because it wasn’t _fair_ how his name rolled off his tongue – and looked up at him. Viktor was looking at him with an intensity that managed to take his breath away. “Skate for me? Please?”

How could he say no to that?

“O-okay,” he whined in defeat, and Viktor’s face blossomed in a blinding beam of sunshine.

“Perfect! I’ll take care of the music, just give me a sign and I’ll press play.”

Then he extended his hand between them, and waited patiently. Yuuri handed him the phone in reluctance, and he took of his glasses and handed them to him too. He looked at the Russian skater gliding towards the edge of the rink in dismay, feeling like, somehow, he’d been played in some way.

He tried to control the quivering of his hands, the shaking of his knees, and the knots already forming deep within his stomach, and made his way to the middle of the rink. His eyes rested on the empty tiers, obscured by the bluish shadows of the darkened room, and let his eyes trail until they landed on Viktor.

In the little time he’d gotten to know him, he’d learnt so much about him. He’d found out that there was much more to be seen than the careful placed celebrity mask he wore in front of the cameras; he was also a bit of a scatter-brain, over-cheerful and sometimes a bit selfish, reminding him of a child sometimes. But neither of those sides were the one looking at him right now.

His sight may be blurred for not wearing his glasses, but that, he could see. Viktor had his arms crossed nonchalantly on the top of the barrier, in a position quite similar of the one he had when they first got there. His fingers were draped loosely on the phone, but he paid no mind to it.

His full attention was on him.

Yuuri got once again the feeling of being looked through, of being peeled of all his layers to stand bare in front of the other man, and such intensity directed at him again in such little time in-between made his legs shake but not because of anxiety.

Swallowing down, he extended his right hand to the side and bended his left one so it would rest gently on his invisible partner’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and took two deep breath, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

He looked at Viktor hesitantly. “I tend to get really nervous when I skate for others, so if I flub it, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you nervous about? It’s just me.”

_You being_ you _is one of the main reasons this is so nerve-wracking!_

He must had fallen into deep thought, because when he knew it, Viktor was calling for him again.

“Yuuri. We’re alone at the rink. Right now, no one’s watching you. Forget about me. Forget about all your insecurities and nerves. Be one with the ice. _Show me._ ”

Yuuri took two deep breaths, trying to steady his erratic heart, and closed his eyes. Just by the simple gesture, the room surrounding him didn’t feel as intimidating as it did before. It was just practice. No one was giving him a score, he had no crowd to move with his performance. It was just… him.

He heard a little shift from outside the ice, too loud in the nearly empty room. Viktor was waiting for him patiently, waiting until he felt ready.

He wanted to show him, he realized. He wanted to show him how he skated with all his heart and soul. It may be flawed, and simple, and he certainly had a long way to go yet, but Viktor Nikiforov was waiting to see nonetheless. He had already seen the video of that morning, and he’d liked it; he’d praised him for it.

He knew he could do so much better than that.

He finally opened his eyes, determination and confidence he wasn’t familiar with pouring from him. He exhaled softly, letting go of the last of his nerves and nodded at the other man, asking him to start the song. His heart was beating strongly against his chest, his hands were steady in position, and he felt his whole body maintaining his starting position with ease.

The silence was deafening while he waited for the music to start. He could hear nothing but the blood rushing through his veins, feeling for the first time eager to start his performance. It was exhilarating and frustrating at the same time.

And then, the music began.

The soft melody of the harp pushed him through his starting twirls, the violins soon joining and composing together the heart-warming melody of a waltz. His partner, made of ice and air and music, led him through the ice, helping him in his steps, accompanying him in his twirls, and lifting him in his jumps, which he landed effortlessly.

There was something different, he noticed. He didn’t know how to put it into words, but as he went along, he didn’t feel alone, as the song sometimes made him feel. His partner was almost tangible against his fingertips, and cradled him and showed him off like the most beautiful painting that ever existed. The song surrounded him in a warm embrace, and left him breathless from the sudden longing he felt.

His thoughts darted towards the other man watching him skate. What was he feeling? Did his dance leave him indifferent or did it reach him? Did he make him have to stifle the urge to join him in his dance, to fill the empty space in his arms? Did he feel jealous of the air around him, of the violins that got the chance to join him?

How would it feel, he wondered, if it was Viktor the one who danced with him?

Yuuri kept on dancing, telling the tale of the song for him and only him. His movements were softer, his stepping flowed in total synch, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt he belonged there. He was meant to be skating.

The song was coming to an end, and something in his chest constricted, already missing the feeling of near completion this song brought him. Just as the violin played the last note, he fell into his ending pose, bended backwards and holding his invisible partner close, not ready to let go of them yet.

He panted softly, his glossy eyes transfixed to the ceiling, when slow clapping snapped him out of his post-acting haze. He straightened up, letting his arms fall beside him, and focused on Viktor. There was a soft smile in his face, his clear blue eyes twinkling with warmth and something else, something he wasn’t sure he could name.

Viktor abandoned his position behind the barriers and skated towards him. He stopped in front of him, mere inches separating them, but somehow, although a part of his mind was screeching at the proximity, he felt surprisingly calm about it.

The Russian rose a hand and placed it on his cheek, his thumb caressing lightly the skin of his cheekbone, drawing a blush at the mere contact. It felt intimate and private. He resisted the urge to lean on his warm palm.

“That was absolutely stunning, Yuuri,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. The Japanese shivered. “You took my breath away the moment your performance started. It was beautiful.”

He felt his cheeks heating up, and his lips cured up in happiness at his praise. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“No. Thank _you_ for sharing this with me.”

“It was nothing,”

“It was!” he put his other hand on his cheek so he was cradling his face. He looked at him dead in the eye, serious. “There were so many feelings poured into it, so much longing… the best _Agape_ I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The confidence he felt left him at the rain of praises, not used to the constant gushing. “T-thanks.”

Then Viktor, still cradling his face with his both strong hands, cocked his head, enthusiasm and cheerfulness filling his face again, becoming once again the Viktor that hid behind the cameras. He couldn’t understand why, though – albeit more childish, this Viktor was as charming as all the other sides of him he’d seen so far. However, something told him there was so much more about him than what met in the eye; despite his gleeful demeanour, his eyes were still intense and focused on him. Why did he hide under all those masks?

He hummed, snapping him out of his musings. “Your jumps need a bit of work, but your step sequence was flawless. It was impossible to look away. And the way you snuck in waltz steps like this… you know how to dance waltz, right?”

“Yeah. Minako-sensei taught me how to dance in our lessons. She loved to introduce me to all kinds of styles; she didn’t stick to ballet for long. She usually says that if you want to dance properly in one style, you need to have a taste of them all.”

Viktor chuckled with a soft look in his face, and let his hand fall to the crook of his neck, then reached for his right hand. He clasped his hand in his and suddenly pulled Yuuri towards him. The Japanese’s eyes widened as he lost his footing, raising his arms to grab onto something, and his left hand clasped onto Viktor’s shoulder.

He looked up at Viktor, and his breath hitched at how _close_ they were standing from each other. Viktor’s smile was teasing and way too naughty to be legal. He then felt his strong hand resting just under his shoulder blades.

“Get ready.”

“What?”

Viktor stepped forward and Yuuri instinctively stepped back, albeit a bit clumsily. His eyes widened in realisation and he adjusted his hold on his shoulder nervously, catching up in what he was doing. When he stepped forward again, he was ready.

Yuuri met him in the dance, his body falling in the familiar steps of an improvised waltz. They flowed through the ice with grace, adapting their steps to the slippery ground in total coordination. Viktor’s hand was warm against his back, and instead of looking forward, like the dance required, his eyes were trained on his face. They twirled softly, and Yuuri tightened his grip on the other man.

“You see, what I love of dancing and performing is that you can convey so _much_ with so little. For example, we have the waltz.” He tipped Yuri backwards in a ninth pose, and Yuuri kept his eyes trained on the fair-haired man.

“Can you feel it, Yuuri? The delight of being joined, the selflessness the dancers feel, the unconditional love pouring from every movement they make. It’s like a painting and its frame, showing them off to the whole world, but incomplete if you separate them. This,” he whispered, “this absolute devotion is the essence of the _Agape_ love.”

Then, something in his hold changed, and Yuuri was suddenly standing closer to Viktor, if it was even possible. He could feel his breath fanning his face; his clear eyes had darkened, his pupils blown, and they were focused solely onto him. He stepped forward with intensity, and Yuuri answered in kind, completely lost in their dance.

Viktor’s voice was deep when he went on, and Yuuri couldn’t supress the shiver that ran through him.

“Then we have the tango, the unaltered representation of the _Eros_ love. The eyes trained on one another, the space between the dancers being almost inexistent, and their bodies almost fused together. It’s in the minute hesitation before a kiss, the electricity of a lover’s touch, the shivering running through our bodies in a charged whisper. This dance is intense passion and pure sexual tension.”

Just when he finished talking, Viktor twirled him, and Yuuri took the chance to do a flying camel spin, completely trusting Viktor to hold him. The Russian’s hold on him tightened, and his smile crooked at the action. Yuuri met Viktor’s eyes in a challenge, his mouth curving up, and he felt Viktor’s breath hitch.

Viktor spun him and dipped him, resting his forehead on the younger man. Their eyes bore into each other, drowning into them. Yuuri raised his hand to his face, almost touching the pale skin of his cheek but not quite, just to rest it on his shoulder again. Sparks flew between them.

Viktor raised them both and skated backwards, his tight hold on Yuuri not faltering one bit. Yuuri leaned onto him, letting him drag him through the ice. He reached to Viktor’s broad shoulder blades and straightened both of them, turning their bodies in the rhythm of the music coming from their blades.

Yuuri could hear the song Viktor had danced to in his free skate in his head, the song he’d longed so much to dance with the man currently holding him, and adapted his movements to it. Viktor turned him around and pressed his chest against his back, leading him into steps full of passion and intensity. His hand raised from his stomach and cupped his face, turning it slightly so they didn’t lose eye contact. Yuuri could feel the other’s man heart beating against him, and everywhere they touched tingled in response.

Yuuri turned around again and bended his knee, resting his leg on Viktor’s side. The other man’s hand travelled to his thigh, holding him closer and leading him once again. His bangs fell on his face, covering part of his face, and Yuuri reached to brush them away, resting his hand on Viktor’s nape, and the touch skin-to-skin felt electrifying.

Viktor bended him backwards and he leaned forward, accompanying him in his bow. His bended led curved into his figure, supporting him, and his hand travelled down, dragging Viktor with him. Their eyes bore into each other as they stopped in that pose, heavy breaths falling into the short space separating them.

Yuuri couldn’t think. He was way too lost into the feel of him to think.

It was Viktor who brought them back to their own two feet. He didn’t let go of Yuuri’s waist when he did so. Silence fell between the two of them, their soft pants being the only sound that could be heard in the spacious room.

“This…” Viktor said, his voice rough and deep, “this is _Eros_. Intensity, electricity, passion. It’s the fullness in a fleeting moment, just to leave you winded out and craving for more.”

Viktor reached out for his hand again, and Yuuri automatically rested his on his shoulder. Their movements became soft and slow again, like the calm breeze of spring, as they returned to their waltz. Yuuri listened to his voice, absorbing every word he whispered between them.

“Even though I love both dances with intensity, I have to lean towards waltz. It’s sweeter and unforgettable. It’s about unreserved adoration that will last forever, it’s a promise of never-ending love, and it can bring…”

Viktor trailed off. They came to a stop, but neither of them moved. Yuuri blinked away his glossy eyes, trying to get his heart to beat in a normal pace again. His stare trailed down and rested on Viktor’s collarbones, looking too white and exposed in the moonlight. A hand cupped his face and lifted it, making him stare into Viktor’s eyes again.

“Viktor?”

His voice felt airy and rough after so much time not using it. Viktor blinked heavily and let go of him, putting some distance between them. He ran a hand through his hair, and he could see his walls building up again.

He couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of disappointment because of it.

“This was fun,” he commented, his voice still a bit rough. He cleared his throat. “It’s been so long since I danced with someone else. Thank you, Yuuri.”

Those last words rung with sincerity, and it caught him a bit off guard. “You’re welcome, Viktor.”

“Oh, before I forget about it.” He rummaged through his pockets, and took out Yuuri’s glasses and phone. “This is yours.”

He accepted them with a grateful nod. “Thanks for keeping them.”

He put on his glasses, and the world fell into focus once again. Huh, he hadn’t noticed the lack of them so much. It was no wonder, since Viktor and him had been standing in such a close proximity…

Yuuri’s cheeks flared up when his brain finally caught up with the last twenty minutes. Had he…? Did they…? Was he…?

Viktor, completely oblivious of his sudden meltdown, kept on talking. “Well, now that we’re both here in the ice, why don’t I help you with your jumps? I could teach you some tricks to land them better. What do you say?”

His spiralling train of thought completely stopped when he heard Viktor say the word ‘teach’. He turned his head in a whiplash, slightly startling the older man, and his face was the pure expression of joy and excitement.

“I want to learn how to do flips!” He bounced in his feet, not caring that he was on his skates and he could fall. “I-I mean, if it’s not too much to ask for. It’s just that I have no one to teach me how to do them, and learning from videos is actually pretty difficult. It’s also your signature move, and I’ve wanted to know how to do it properly for so long…”

His voice died out as embarrassment won over excitement. Viktor chuckled at the sight of it and covered his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Прекрати быть таким милым, или я тебя поцелую."

“Huh? What does it mean?”

“It means I will teach you, so you better get ready.”

Yuuri nodded, a face-splitting smile in his face and his eyes twinkling in delight as he skated to the centre of the ice. Viktor went to the boards and rested his weight on them, watching Yuuri stop in the middle and turning to look at him expectantly.

“This boy will be the end of me.” He muttered under his breath, too elated to care. He then raised his voice. “Okay, Yuuri, what you have to do is the following.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations: Everyone thank Sadomazocat for those lovely Russian bits!
> 
> “… Яков, я не вернусь сегодня в отель, увидимся завтра." -> “… I won't be going back to the hotel tonight, so see you tomorrow, Yakov.  
> "Ты очень милый." -> "You’re very cute."  
> "Прекрати быть таким милым, или я тебя поцелую." -> “Stop being so cute or I’ll kiss you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like Yuuri is really #relatable in here hahahha. I couldn’t help but pour my fangirl heart in him.  
> Also, scream at me at tumblr! My username is livinglittlelie (same as here).


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